


vampire soup kitchen: Keelan, Savion, and Kayce

by Lukra (49percentchanceofbees)



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Vampire Hunters, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-03-09 11:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18916084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/49percentchanceofbees/pseuds/Lukra
Summary: The young vampireSavionwalks into his lord's hall and, to his surprise, encounters the mortalKeelanas an honored guest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The dragons in this story take humanoid forms unless otherwise noted.

Savion enjoyed his lord’s parties, and enjoyed his lord’s house, and enjoyed the blood of lesser dragons, and in general enjoyed all the powers and privileges of his so-called curse. He did not even mind his service to the one who had gifted it to him, because Lord Vyal was just and grand and provided well for those in his care, and asked for nothing that Savion would not have freely given. Some called him stingy, for portioning out their hunts carefully, and keeping his underlings on a tight leash rather than allowing them their mayhem. Savion could sympathize with such a view and occasionally did, especially when he was thirsty, but no such consideration would sway his loyalty to his lord. Lord Vyal knew such loyalty when he saw it; thus, he favored Savion, and Savion grew complacent, perhaps, and careless in his manners. Careless enough to wander into Lord Vyal’s great hall uninvited, with a crust of ice on his boots -- leaving a slushy trail for the mortals who provided both blood and menial labor to the castle to clean up, and not a thought for their poor backs as they scrubbed, of course -- and a witticism already on his tongue. He stopped short at the smell of shed blood.

 

It was not uncommon or unfamiliar to him, after all, but he hadn’t expected it here and now. He realized at once that he must have stumbled upon one of the lord’s meals -- unusual, as he was a private man and usually took them in his own chambers. Savion was no savage, of course, but he was still young and, well, not as experienced as he might have liked -- and he was thirsty -- the smell of open blood had him still for a moment, struggling to master himself. By the time he had managed it, both dragons in the room were staring at him, his lord and a little mortal spiral whose chest above her neat dress gaped gloriously scarlet -- for a second Savion thought that Lord Vyal had torn her open, though he was usually not a messy eater and considered it wasteful to kill a potential repeat dinner. The thought crossed Savion’s mind that if Lord Vyal were going to use her up like that, perhaps he would have some to spare, though she was quite small. Then he realized that she was not bleeding, but simply bore capsule, one of those odd cases with a liquid reservoir beneath the skin, and hers happened to be blood. Other than that and a certain plainness to her dress, the frilliness of her apron, she looked like one of them, dark with elegant swirls across her scales, and Savion began to doubt his initial assumptions about the situation and her nature.

 

“Savion,” Lord Vyal said: his voice sounded cold, but no more than usual, so Savion didn’t think he was angry at the intrusion. “I would like you to meet my dear friend Keelan.”

 

She gave Savion a shallow curtsey; the lack of grace to that motion told Savion at once that he had guessed right -- she was mortal -- and sparked anger in him, that she showed him so little respect. He opened his mouth to snap at her, half-stepped forward with the intention of making it clear to the little thing just how she ought to greet her betters.

 

“Savion,” Lord Vyal said. His tone was calm, lighter even than the first time he’d spoken, but there was a note in it that demanded Savion’s attention. It could be hard to tell where Lord Vyal was looking, his glowing eyes too bright to show any hint of pupil, but Savion could feel those eyes upon him. “I’m glad you’ve had this chance to meet Keelan, as she is one of my oldest and most beloved friends. We do not see each other enough. I hope you will regard her with all the respect and warmth I do.”

 

That was enough to stop Savion. He looked between his master and the spiral, puzzled. Only now did he notice that Lord Vyal had come down from his throne and stood beside Keelan, bent towards her. She held a jar of blood, but he seemed uninterested in it.

 

“You want me to treat … this creature … with  _ respect _ ?” Savion said, arching an eyebrow. He could only imagine that his lord was joking, though Lord Vyal was not known for his sense of humor.

 

“It’s very nice to meet -- ” Keelan began, rather hurriedly.

 

“You will  _ not _ call her such things,” Lord Vyal said, voice thunderous and glare like a storm cloud. He began to step forward but, to Savion’s disbelief, Keelan laid a hand on his arm.

 

“It’s all right,” she said, soothing. “I know he didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

“Don’t presume to know what I -- ” Savion began, angered that someone so beneath him would act as if she could intercede on his behalf, as if he needed her help.

 

“ _ Be quiet _ ,” Lord Vyal hissed, his tone suddenly dangerous in a way Savion had heard before, but never before directed at Savion himself. “If you cannot show a guest some basic courtesy, then you may whine at my door like the dog your behavior befits. Get out.”

 

Savion opened his mouth to reply, angry and embarrassed -- to be shamed by his master was bad enough, but in front of a mortal, and for insulting a bloodbag, not even a very pretty one! But Lord Vyal glared at him, and Savion withered under that glare. He stormed out with only a furious glance at Keelan. That glance was bad enough: he could see pity in her eyes, and it drove him half-mad, that a twig like her would think she could _pity_ him.

 

As he walked out, he heard her say, “It really is all right. I’ve heard worse, after all, and he seems young.”

 

“He is young, and arrogant, and he will come to grief if unchecked,” Lord Vyal replied, solemnly. His tone lightened as he continued: “But enough about Savion. Tell me of your travels, my dear Keelan. You seem weary and your supplies low. Have you had trouble?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vampire hunter [Kayce](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=94713&tab=dragon&did=52180518) knocks on the door of notorious vampire sympathizer [Keelan](http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=94713&tab=dragon&did=51024436).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: brief intoxication

The knock on the door came at noon, so Keelan knew it wasn’t any of her usual clients. They’d all be sleeping, especially on a bright, sunny day like this. Keelan sighed, carefully put on her most friendly face, and went to open the door for whatever territorial neighbor or blustering local official had come to bother her today.

She knew as soon as she saw the hood tucked under a wide-brimmed hat, the tattered cloak heavy with coarse fur, the brutal black armor on one arm, that she’d been wrong. This was no tax collector, and Keelan was in danger.

Like certain other dragons Keelan knew, this mirror seemed to drag a dark and stormy night into the doorway with her. She took a long glance around the room behind Keelan, then turned her attention to the spiral herself.

“Are you Keelan?” the mirror said in a voice like claws on gravel.

Keelan curtseyed -- gripping her skirt would keep the mirror from seeing that her hands were shaking. “I am. What is your business with me?”

The mirror’s gaze roamed the room behind Keelan again. “May I come in?”

“No, you may not,” Keelan said, a bit more sharply than she intended.

The mirror looked down at her, expression reserved, though Keelan thought she saw a hint of surprise in those Arcane eyes.

“I’d like to know first what you’re looking for,” Keelan said, making it sound like an explanation.

The mirror’s head tilted slightly. “I was wondering if I could consult you about the locations of some unsavory individuals.”

“I don’t know any unsavory individuals.” Keelan forced a smile and made as if to close the door. “If that’ll be all …”

The armored hand shot out to hold the door open. Teeth showed, in what was possibly intended as a smile. “Miss Keelan, I am looking for vampires. From what I’ve heard, you do know a great many of those.”

“I do,” Keelan acknowledged. “And I have no intention of telling you where they are.”

The facsimile of a smile vanished. “You’d defend creatures who feed on the blood of other dragons?”

“Yes. You should have heard that too.” Keelan tried to close the door again, but she could make no progress against the mirror’s casual strength. Giving up, she turned from the door and walked back into the little rented house. Turning her back on the mirror would have worried her if she’d had any chance of defending herself if the mirror did choose to attack -- but since the mirror would easily overpower Keelan anyway, she figured there was no point watching her.

Still, Keelan did look up when she heard the door swing shut, only to find that the mirror had followed her into the room. Good thing Keelan didn’t have any clients sleeping over today. Of course, if she had, she would’ve taken a lot more care to make sure the mirror stayed out.

For a long moment, the mirror said nothing, just examined the equipment laid out in the front room, where Keelan often met clients and donors: needles, rubber tubes, and of course the carefully-sorted jars of blood in neat racks and cases, each with a label in Keelan’s precise handwriting.

“That’s a lot of blood,” the mirror said quietly. Since she sounded as if she spoke more to herself than to Keelan, Keelan felt no obligation to respond.

But Keelan couldn’t get back to work with the mirror hanging around, either -- she’d been going through her correspondence and updating contact information for bigger clients, and that was the last thing she wanted this mirror sticking her nose in. In fact, while the mirror was distracted, Keelan subtly slid her address book and records into a drawer.

The mirror turned back to Keelan at last and tried a smile again: this one looked like it was labeled “charming” on the shelf where she’d kept it gathering dust for the last few decades. “Miss Keelan, maybe we got off to the wrong start. My name is Kayce. I’m a vampire hunter.”

“Miss Kayce,” Keelan said sweetly, just for the chance to see Kayce blink, half-offended at being addressed so, “I have no business with vampire hunters, and they are not welcome in my home. Leave, please.”

“Vampires kill dozens of innocent dragons -- ”

“They certainly will, if left to starve -- ”

“Keeeeeeeeeels!” The door swung open, hinges creaking as it took most of the weight of the dragon on the other side. “I had  _ such _ a great time last night and I am  _ sooooo _ thirsty.”

Kayce and Keelan both stopped dead, staring at the pearlcatcher leaning -- artfully, though he was clearly in no state to be artful; it simply came naturally to him -- against the door.

“You have a friend!” he said, overloud, into the tense silence. “Haha, that’s nice, everybody should have friends …”

Keelan and Kayce moved at the same time: Kayce flipped a crossbow up out from under her cloak --  _ of course it’s a crossbow _ \-- and aimed it at the intoxicated vampire, and Keelan sprung in front of her, grabbed the crossbow’s tip, and dragged it down. Kayce swore, her unarmored hand tangled in the bow’s grip, released it, and pulled a dagger from under her cloak. Keelan twirled the crossbow, inexpertly, but she got the stock into her hand and jammed the point into Kayce’s chest.

Kayce froze and looked down. For a long moment there was silence, except for the pearlcatcher quietly counting his own whiskers, which he seemed to have only just discovered.

“You would kill me to defend this creature?” Kayce said quietly.

“Marros, who paints songbirds and tosses pretty girls too high into the air when dancing but always, always catches them, no matter how drunk he is?” Keelan’s finger wasn’t on the trigger, but she wasn’t sure if Kayce could see that at this angle. “I would hope I’d do as much for any  _ innocent dragon _ under assault from a stranger.”

Another long moment. Marros finally seemed to notice something was up; he took a step towards Keelan. “Keels, is something wrong? Is this dragon bothering you?”

“Not at all, Marros, thank you for checking,” Keelan said, without taking her eyes off Kayce. “I’m a little tied up at the moment, but you know you can take what you need. The case on the table to the left should suit you.”

Marros took one of the jars Keelan had indicated, then came and looked over Keelan’s shoulder, seeing the crossbow, the dagger in Kayce’s hand. Sobered, he raised his gaze to Kayce’s face and bared his teeth --

“Marros, I won’t see any violence in my house,” Keelan said, putting her other hand on his chest. “I think you had better go take that drink, before you start feeling ill.”

Marros hesitated. “Are you sure, Keelan? I don’t want to leave you in trouble.”

“It’s fine, isn’t it, Miss Kayce?”

Kayce’s lips pulled back from her teeth -- and then turned into a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. I’m lowering the dagger, Miss Keelan. Don’t shoot me, please.”

“I won’t.”

Marros still didn’t leave until Kayce put the dagger away. As the door swung closed behind him, Keelan lowered the crossbow.

“I’d like that back, by the way,” Kayce said. “It’s a family heirloom.”

“You can have it back when you’re leaving. I’ll walk you out of town.”

“Fair enough.” Kayce sighed, tilting her head onto its side. “So you keep ‘em fed so they don’t rip people apart?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not going to work forever, you know. And it’s not a job I’d envy.”

“I will make it work as long as I can. And I wouldn’t envy your job either.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would. Well, it was nice meeting you, Miss Keelan, but it might be best to hope we don’t run across each other again.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the vampire lord Vyal discovers that other vampires attacked [Keelan](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=51024436) on her way to his castle, he decides to give [Savion](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=51172680) a new task.

“Our lord has sent for you,” said the mortal maid, curtseying deeply, her eyes lowered in proper deference.

“I will attend him at once,” Savion said. If he’d had a pulse, it would have quickened: either he was in trouble -- and he couldn’t think of anything he’d done to occasion that -- or Lord Vyal had finally forgiven him. It galled Savion that his lord had turned cold towards him for disrespecting some mortal bloodbag -- that term quite literal in Keelan’s case. But ever since Savion had spoken against her, a note of frosty reserve had entered Lord Vyal’s treatment of Savion. The lord hadn’t outright rejected Savion, or treated him poorly in a way that he could actually complain of, but he’d made it clear that Savion no longer enjoyed his favor. The other vampires in Lord Vyal’s service had noticed, of course, and now regarded Savion warily, as if their lord’s displeasure might be catching.

“He is in his room,” the maid said, and backed out of Savion’s chambers.

A private audience -- perhaps it was forgiveness after all. Savion hurried across the castle, then slowed his steps as he approached Lord Vyal’s room: he had enough pride left to refuse to seem eager. The smell of blood reached his nose as he came to Lord Vyal’s door, and he found himself smiling. Perhaps the elder vampire wished to reconcile over a meal.

Savion knocked at the door and quickly received the order to come in. He could read nothing in Lord Vyal’s voice. He pushed open the door and --

“ _ You! _ ” Savion was flabbergasted and disgusted to find Keelan, the very author of all his miseries, sitting on the edge of Lord Vyal’s vast four-poster bed.

“Me?” Keelan said, her voice slightly faint. She looked ashy, and the scarlet of her chest had faded, her blood capsule apparently depleted. Her dress was torn.

“Come in and close the door, Savion,” said Lord Vyal, whom Savion only now noticed sitting beside Keelan, cutting a length of bandage.

Savion obeyed, jaw clenched. Had Lord Vyal brought him here to force him to make some obeisance to Keelan, treating him like a puppy whose face might be rubbed in its own mess? That might be the last straw for Savion’s pride.

“I told you, I really am all right,” Keelan said to Lord Vyal. “This isn’t necessary …”

“I will decide what is necessary,” Lord Vyal said, firmly but without anger. He turned to Savion. “On her journey to visit me, Keelan found herself waylaid by a cadre of lesser vampires, cast-offs, who thought to feed on her by force. She only barely escaped and made it here. This is unacceptable. Keelan is my friend and enjoys my protection.”

“You wish me to hunt those who have offended you?” Savion said, eagerly: he would much rather earn his lord’s forgiveness that way than become involved with Keelan again. “I can make them regret ever setting eyes on her.”

_ As I do. _

But Lord Vyal shook his head. “No, such a task can be left to others. You, Savion, I intend to entrust with a far more delicate and important operation. You should take this assignment as a mark of my regard: I would not have chosen you for this job if I did not have the utmost faith in you. But should you fail, do not bother ever returning here; you will find yourself the object of my greatest wrath.”

Savion ran his tongue over his fangs, simultaneously eager and nervous. Obviously the stakes were high. From the way Lord Vyal spoke, he had not only forgiven Savion but chosen him for high honor -- but Savion had to prove himself worthy of that honor.

“Whatever it is, I will not disappoint you,” Savion promised fervently.

“I wish for you to accompany Keelan on her travels and ensure that no harm comes to her.”

Savion made a small, shocked sound deep in his throat. His mind went completely blank for a second. That was the last thing he’d expected. 

“I’m really not sure that this is a good idea,” Keelan said, peering at Savion with worried eyes. Savion hated agreeing with her.

“I’ve already decided,” Lord Vyal said, with absolute authority. “Savion is the vampire for the job.”

“May I … inquire as to why you have selected me for this … role?” It was a punishment, Savion felt sure. He  _ was _ having his nose rubbed in his earlier disrespect to Keelan. And to travel with her -- he would have to leave his lord’s castle, and all the comforts he enjoyed there. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

“No, you may not,” Lord Vyal said briskly. His glowing eyes bore into Savion. “You will not disappoint me, will you?”

Savion’s own words tasted bitter on his tongue. He glared savagely at Keelan. The thought did occur to him that once they were out of Lord Vyal’s sight, out of his reach, he could take out his frustration on her however he wanted -- he saw in her face that she knew it too. She was afraid of him, and he reveled in that fear.

But to do so would not only disobey a direct order from Lord Vyal, it would invite the lord’s unending wrath and hatred.

_ Does it matter what he thinks of me? He’s sending me away. He’s punishing me. He no longer cares for me. Why  _ shouldn’t _ I disobey him? _

This was Lord Vyal, who had given Savion so much -- who had elevated him, given him immortality -- and to whom Savion had sworn an oath of fealty. To break that oath … 

Keelan was mortal. She would only live so long. If he just held out until her natural death came for her, he could return to his lord’s side to great acclaim. Or perhaps this was a test of his loyalty, and once Savion proved himself devoted, Lord Vyal would call him back.

Savion wet his lips. “I will do it.”

“Swear to me,” Lord Vyal insisted. “Give me your sworn word that Keelan will come to no harm in your care.”

So he intended to explicitly make this a matter of Savion’s honor. Perhaps Lord Vyal  _ had _ realized that Savion himself might be a danger to Keelan. Through clenched teeth, Savion said, “I swear. I will keep her from harm at all costs.”

Lord Vyal inclined his head. “Good. I thank you, Savion, for your service. There are not many I would trust with something so important to me.”

“I am honored,” Savion said, his voice sounding strangled even to himself.

“You should go prepare for your journey,” said Lord Vyal: perhaps he intended it as a mercy, to allow Savion out of the room before he let slip some reaction he’d regret. “Keelan will leave tomorrow, and you will accompany her.”

“I look forward to it,” Savion said, casting another burning glance at Keelan. “I will be ready.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Keelan](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=51024436) leaves the elder vampire Lord Vyal's hall with a new bodyguard, [Savion](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=51172680).

Keelan didn’t like to doubt Lord Vyal, an old friend who had always been so kind and generous to her, but she didn’t have to be a skydancer to feel the waves of anger and hatred rolling off of Savion as they rode out of Lord Vyal’s castle in one of the lord’s carriages. Her new companion spoke to Keelan no more than absolutely necessary, answering her in monosyllables or not at all when she tried to talk to him about their travel plans. Her brief, nervous attempts to draw him into friendly conversation had received such furious glares, such barely-contained rage in his voice as he responded with a bitter word or two, that she’d given up.

He stared out the window as they rode through the Tangled Wood, lounging on the seat across from Keelan in that unconsciously elegant way that vampires had, his face set and brooding. Keelan could admit without attaching particular importance or emotion to the fact that he was very beautiful, even by the high standards of vampires. The truth was, she was not opposed to the idea of a bodyguard -- the roads had grown more dangerous of late, and she had barely come out of some close calls, from vampires and mortals alike. (She thought of Kayce, but the mirror had been positively courtly, compared to other hunters Keelan had encountered in the past.) However, Keelan feared that Savion’s company might be more dangerous than traveling alone, when he so clearly despised her.

There was nothing she could do but trust in Lord Vyal and try to avoid antagonizing Savion. So, as the hours stretched by in silence, Keelan turned to her correspondence. She’d lost all of the supplies she’d carried to the vampires who’d waylaid her -- the blood, of course, but also her various tools and even personal possessions. Some of her things they’d destroyed in senseless cruelty, but most she simply hadn’t been able to reclaim in her desperate escape. Lord Vyal had promised to send them on if his hunters found them, but she didn’t hold out much hope -- they would be seeking revenge, not simple supplies. But she had managed to hold onto her address book and her most important and recent letters, by the simple expedience of always carrying them in an inside pocket of her skirt. Now she took them out, along with the paper and pen Lord Vyal had provided her, and set to work.

She felt Savion’s eyes shift to her, his head turning slightly in her peripheral vision, but she didn’t look at him. Keelan had known that at some point he would inevitably grow bored of watching the scenery and turn to her for entertainment, a possibility that she regarded with some trepidation. He watched her for what felt like hours before he finally spoke.

“What are you scribbling?” There was contempt in his voice, of course, but also a certain reluctant interest. Clearly he didn’t like asking -- gods forbid she get the impression that he actually cared about anything she did -- but he had nothing better to do. A bit foolish of him: he ought to have brought a novel or something. Some knitting, Keelan thought, trying not to giggle at the image of Savion with half a cardigan on his lap. He looked at her suspiciously, as if he suspected her amusement, and she instantly sobered. She did not want to see what this proud vampire would do if she insulted him with laughter.

“I’m writing letters to my contacts in Dragonhome and the Labyrinth,” she explained evenly, signing a letter and then lifting it to her mouth so she could blow on the ink to dry it. Then she put it aside. “I lost my entire supply of blood to those bandits, so I badly need to call on my donors, and to inform my clients that my ability to help them will be limited until I can build up a reserve.”

Unconsciously, Keelan touched the bandages on her throat. Those vampires hadn’t just emptied the jars she carried; they’d forcibly fed on her as well, completely draining the extra blood in her capsule and then some. They’d barely managed to stop themselves before killing her -- their leader had beaten the others off her, snarling that they ought to keep her to use again … 

Keelan found her hands were shaking. She’d had close calls before, many of them, but this one had been pretty bad, and it was so fresh in her memory … 

“Donors?” Savion asked, as Keelan buried her hands and the weakness they betrayed in the folds of her skirt. At his tone -- more curious than hateful, as if he’d forgotten to mix in the latter emotion -- Keelan realized that he had no idea what it was she did: how she knew Lord Vyal, why she’d been on that dark road on that dark night with a feast’s worth of blood. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she’d need to explain her travels to him; if she’d thought of it at all, she would have assumed Lord Vyal had told him about her, but apparently not.

“Blood donors,” Keelan said. “I collect blood from them and dispense it to vampires who need to feed.”

Savion let out a contemptuous little noise that she would have called a snort were that word not too rough and discordant for it. “Any vampire who needs the likes of you to secure their drink should burn.”

“Lord Vyal once needed me,” Keelan said.

She was not at all prepared for Savion’s reaction: he rose to his feet in the moving carriage, though his head-feathers brushed the ceiling even with his back hunched. Looming over her, he snarled, “You lie!”

“I -- ” Keelan began, as calmly as she could: she had plenty of experience dealing with angry vampires, and she trusted in her ability to de-escalate the situation -- mostly.

Savion cut her off: “You slight my kind enough by making us the objects of your pity -- you will not slander my lord!”

“Getting help when you need it is not something to be ashamed of,” Keelan replied, almost evenly. “And I never said I pitied you, or him, or any other vampire. I respect your kind, which is why I wish to help them. You see the generosity of others as an insult -- ”

“Generosity is offered by those who have more to those who do not,” Savion growled. He didn’t sit down, swaying a bit with the motion of the carriage, but the strident notes of fury had faded from his voice, at least. “That you would claim to have anything to offer the least of us …”

“Anyone can need help -- some compassion, a sympathetic ear, a helping hand. A meal when you’re down and out. Some direction. That doesn’t make them weak or lesser.” Keelan spread her hands in her lap. They weren’t shaking anymore. “No dragon is an island: we all need each other. We all rely on each other. There is no shame in doing so. Someone who accepts my help today may help me, or someone else, tomorrow.”

Glancing up at Savion, she took in the expression on his face: skepticism and contempt, even disgust. She wasn’t getting through to him. Well, she hadn’t expected it to be that easy. She took a deep breath: this next bit was a little risky, given his previous reaction.

“Lord Vyal came to me once when a rival had almost destroyed him. I sheltered him, fed him the blood he needed to replenish his strength. He promised me great rewards for doing so, but I told him I didn’t need any, because I wasn’t helping a vampire lord, I was helping  _ another person _ . We’re all just people, mortals and vampires alike. We help each other when we can.”

Savion was silent for a moment, though his sneer showed that this hadn’t gotten through to him either. When he spoke, his voice was bitter: “You got your reward, though. He gave you  _ me _ .”

Keelan tried not to sigh. He’d completely missed the point -- just focused on the idea that best fit his own thoughts. But his response had enlightened her a bit: she could hear a veiled hurt in Savion’s voice, the kind of pain that only sprang from the slights of someone you loved. Some of Savion’s anger, she realized, had nothing to do with his dislike of her, and everything to do with Lord Vyal. “He didn’t ‘give’ you to me, Savion. He asked you to protect me. He trusts you and knows he can rely on you.”

Savion dropped back onto the seat, a sudden motion that almost made Keelan jump. His eyes downcast, he grumbled, “‘Ask’ implies a freedom to refuse.”

What would Lord Vyal have done if Savion had said no? Keelan would have liked to think that the lord would have met Savion’s answer with disappointment but acceptance. She hated the idea that Savion might have been coerced into joining her -- into potentially risking his life for her -- by the threat of force. But … While she believed Lord Vyal to be a good man, Keelan also knew that he was an elder vampire, and as such did things that she considered … less than palatable. She had never really inquired as to how he managed his underlings.

“If you want to go back, you can,” Keelan said. “Or if you want to leave from here. I will personally insist to Lord Vyal that he permit you to do so without penalty.”

Another almost-snort. “You imagine yourself to have any influence in such a matter?”

“He cannot force you to accompany me against my will, even if he disregards yours.” Keelan’s voice sounded a bit prim even to her.

“Can he not?” Savion glanced out the window, his expression world-weary. Keelan wondered abruptly how long he’d been a vampire. It had to be less than a decade, since he hadn’t been among Lord Vyal’s retainers when Keelan had saved the lord’s life. Unless, of course, he’d come to Lord Vyal already turned. She’d never asked how Lord Vyal sourced the lesser vampires around him, either.

Savion’s eyes returned to Keelan, again burning with restrained anger. “I do not need you to plead my case to my lord, to wheedle me out of my duty. I swore to serve him and I shall. I do so  _ gladly _ .”

He certainly didn’t sound glad, but Keelan thought it might be time to let the matter rest, so she only nodded and turned to her correspondence. They would have plenty of time to argue over it later, she imagined.

Oh, but it was going to be a long trip.


End file.
